You Make It Feel Like Christmas
by dontmissthis
Summary: Jane and Maura's first Christmas with their daughter is filled with new traditions and so much more.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously. **

**A/N: We already have three Christmas trees up at my house now and it's obviously given me Christmas fever. This starts a little slow, but will be a three shot. I hope you all enjoy. (: **

**Oh, and note the rating.**

…

Jane reaches out and tries to smooth down the blonde hair on her daughter's head that _always_ seems to stand straight up in random tufts. "I feel your pain, Sam. I had an afro until I was twelve," she says as she watches Samantha babble incomprehensibly. "Didn't help that Ma pretty much gave me a bowl cut once, either…I almost never lived that down. But I won't let anyone do that to you," she adds, smiling as her daughter's sky blue eyes light up as she gives a two-toothed grin.

"You hungry?" Little pudgy arms wave in excitement and her legs start to wildly kick, happy babbling filling the air. Jane laughs at her eight month old daughter's enthusiasm. She was always hungry. "Who would've guessed, scout. If you're not careful, you'll end up being the next Roly Poly Mini-Rizzoli."

She walks to the fridge and her eyebrow quirks mischievously at the first thing her eyes land on. She probably shouldn't do this—in all actuality, Maura may kill her—but she can't resist. Plucking a lemon wedge from the top of the lemon lust cake, she walks over and holds it out to the eagerly awaiting hand. With wide, trusting eyes, Sam grabs it and sticks it in her mouth. Immediately after biting down, she clenches her eyes shut and her nose wrinkles—tiny body shuddering. Even though it's slightly on the mean side, Jane can't help but laugh. It's one of the cutest and funniest things she's probably ever seen.

And then Sam does it again and Jane laughs even more at the unpleasant look her daughter gives her.

"Jane, don't do that to her," Maura chastises as she walks into the kitchen and picks her daughter up from the high chair, taking the lemon and tossing it into the trash. "And stay out of the desserts. They're for tomorrow."

Scoffing, Jane flails her arms out towards their grinning daughter. "She liked it!"

"No, she's a baby and wants to put everything in her mouth," Maura says, before pinching Sam's chubby cheeks and kissing her pink, heart shaped lips. "She doesn't know any better," she coos.

Jane's heart literally melts at the way her wife involuntarily goes into the baby talk voice Maura despises so greatly. She doesn't do it often—claiming it will impair Samantha's verbalization skills—but when she does, Jane wants to listen to it forever. It's perfectly sweet and cute and everything in between. Maura had never been anything less than perfect when it came to raising their child, and as far as Jane was concerned—never would be anything less than. Not when she treats their daughter like she is the best thing in the entire world.

Leaning into the counter, she watches Maura nuzzle into Sam's neck until she gives a sweet, high pitched giggle. She shakes her head. She was _this_ close to videoing Sam eating the lemon that was now resting in the bottom of the trash can. "Way to be a party pooper."

Maura looks up, eyebrows raised and a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "I think you mean, _way to be a responsible parent_."

Jane's eyebrows shoot up in surprised, but pleasant shock. "Ohh…that was a good one."

Maura's face instantly lights up, obviously proud of herself. "Was it? I've been waiting to use that quip for quite a while now."

"Of course you have," Jane laughs—not doubting for a second that Maura had been waiting for the precise moment to say it—before standing and kissing Maura's temple. She places her hand on her wife's lower back and starts to guide them towards the living room. "C'mon. I'm sure Ma is dying to get started."

"Dying is a tad bit of an exaggeration," Maura says as she shifts Sam on her hip. "But I must say, she is rather…_anxious_."

Jane nearly groans. She knows what that means. It's Maura's polite way of saying her mother is behaving like a full-blown nutcase. Only Angela would get this overzealous on Christmas Eve when she was going to see them bright and early on Christmas morning, too.

She sits on the couch—nearly off-put that Maura doesn't sit right beside her, until Sam is wedged between them, free to sit and jabber and chew on the soft stuffed Santa that Maura hands her. Frankie walks in and holds out two mugs of eggnog towards them and winks. "True Rizzoli style. Just don't tell Ma."

Which clearly means they're spiked…just like he had secretly been doing for at least the past ten years.

She takes a sip, enjoying the way the creamy liquid has just enough bite to it—strong but not overpowering, just like she remembers. "Thanks, Frankie," she says as she sets the mug on the coffee table. "You know when Tommy will be here?"

Frankie grimaces, slightly shrugging. "He's not coming."

"_What_?" She incredulously whispers and yet, somehow yells at the same time.

Maura nervously looks between them. Even she—in all of her awkward glory—can feel the tension. She clears her throat and smiles. "This is wonderful, Frankie. I really missed being able to drink it last year."

"Thanks," He says as he backs up to sit on the love seat, "I almost couldn't find enough—"

"Hey, no. Stop," Jane interjects as she throws one hand up between the very obvious diversion Maura is trying to create. "What do you mean he isn't coming?"

"He has a job to do. He said he wanted to get one more in before Christmas so he could buy T.J. something nice this year," shrugging, his eyes flicker over to watch Sam try to pull off the stuffed Santa's hat. "He really wants to do right by him, Janie. We can't blame him for that."

Jane catches his gaze and looks down at her daughter. They've never had any trouble providing Sam with everything she needs—everything she could possibly _want_. But Tommy—no matter how hard he's tried to turn his life around—can't seem to get a break. He constantly moves from one odd job to another, and even combined with Lydia's waitressing paycheck, they barely have enough money to cover rent each month. Much less a bunch of toys that T.J. has probably asked for. She instantly feels horribly for how much they spoil their daughter when her own nephew has so little, and vows not to turn into a puddle of mush and buy every toy she sees at the store—regardless of how much she claims Sam will like it.

"You're right," she coincides. Rubbing her daughter's fuzzy blonde hair, she nods and looks up with skeptical eyes. "But please tell me Ma knows already."

"Yeah," he laughs, "No way was I going to let him make _us_ to break it to her."

There's a tiny tug at her sleeve and she looks down to see Sam struggling to move from the overly-plump cushions that are surrounding her. Jane picks her up and sets her on her lap before grabbing the stuffed toy and playfully squishing it against her daughter's chest in faux hugs. "Is that your Santa? Your little Mr. Santa man?"

If it weren't so endearing to see Jane turn into a complete sappy mess, Frankie would probably roll his eyes. But he knows he acts just the same around his niece—there's just no way to resist those big, blue eyes and perfect little grin. It doesn't appear that _anyone_ has even come close to learning how, not even Maura.

"I can't believe you're lettin' her believe in Santa, Maura. How hard is that gonna be since you can't lie, anyway?"

She tears her eyes away from her usually badass wife gone adorable and sweet, and gives a small shrug. "Well…we've discussed it and I feel as though believing in something as harmless as Santa will help develop her imagination, which is imperative for some aspects of her development in later stages of life. But as far as the lying goes," she looks over and brushes some of the wild blond hair to the side, "I'm not sure what I'll have to do. Jane said we would cross that ditch when it gets here."

"Bridge, Maura," Jane interjects with a light laugh, "We'll cross that _bridge_ when it gets here. I'm not sure you should teach our daughter _anything_ if you can't—"

"Hey, everyone," Lydia pants as she drops her purse to the coffee table. "Sorry we're late, I couldn't get the car to start."

"Well, we would be happy to give you and T.J. a ride home if you need one," Maura says, absentmindedly finishing off the eggnog she had missed _a lot_ last year. Jane would definitely have to be the one driving later.

Lydia waves her hand in the air, brushing off the notion as she sits next to Frankie on the small sofa. "No, need. I was just using the wrong key. Who knew house keys look so much like car keys?" She adds, light laugh following.

Jane nearly groans out loud. Luckily Maura can contain her disbelief a little better, politely smiling and thankful for the moment with Angela walks in with T.J. resting on her hip. "Look what the cat dragged in!"

T.J. wiggles himself down to the floor, pulling his cable-knit reindeer sweater back into place as he crookedly grins. "A cat didn't drug me in, Nonna. We droved here."

"We drived here, T.J.," Lydia pipes up as she grabs Frankie's eggnog and starts to drink it—nonplussed by his incredulous look. "Drived. Not droved, okay?"

He nods and Jane finally _does_ groan. She's grown to like Lydia over the years, but sometimes she _really _wonders how her nephew is going to turn out.

"Jane," Maura tries to chastise as she lightly squeezes Jane's thigh, but her smile gives her away. "Be nice."

"I am! I just can't help it if his mot—Hey, little man," she cuts herself off as T.J. walks over and sits in front of Samantha on the floor. "You excited for Santa coming tonight?"

"Yeah," he says as his little four year old fingers try to untie his shoes, "but Mama said he might not can come tonight. Maybe next time."

Anger, then guilt and incredibly overwhelming heaviness course through her. There's no way she's letting everyone else's troubles be dumped onto a boy so young—much less her own nephew. "He always comes to see the good boys, and I think you've been pretty good. Don't you?"

His light gray eyes—such like those she remembers Tommy having as child—instantly light up and he grins. "Yeah, I cleaned my room and everythin'. Was Sam a good girl? Is she gettin' coal?"

"Why would she get coal?" Maura genuinely asks, watching as he tries to get her daughter to laugh with silly faces. "That's hardly suitable—"

"Bad kids get the coal, Maura," Jane whispers out of the side of her mouth.

That's something she certainly hadn't come across in her research. But if Jane says it's true, then it must be—Jane had certainly been around traditions such as this much longer than she. "Oh," she nods once, smiling at her daughter's light giggle. "No, I don't believe she'll be getting any coal this year."

"I don't think so either, Morma," his face completely straight as he calls Maura what he's called her ever since he could speak. "I made her somethin' just in case, though. But Daddy said to wait 'till tomorrow to give it to her."

Maura praises the kind gesture, so proud and amazed that he is always so thoughtful and giving. He may not be taught certain grammatical skills to her standards, but he has always had such a kind and sweet disposition—one that she hopes he always keeps.

After pulling Sam away from _almost_ chewing on Christmas lights—an obstacle they've had to hurdle all winter by only wrapping the top ¾ of their own tree at home—and licking the shiny clasp of Maura's shoe, they finally hand her two of the _terribly unhealthy_ Christmas cookies to keep her from sticking anything else in her mouth. Red and green icing is caked around her tiny mouth by the time Maura's had two more cups of eggnog and laughing freely, and Jane has complained about being hungry so many times that Angela finally decides to get things started.

Angela walks to the tree and hands a gift to T.J. and one to Sam, both wrapped in red and gold. T.J. knows what it is—the same as the last three Christmas Eve gifts Angela's given him—but rips into it eagerly nonetheless. He pulls out the pajamas—adorned with teddy bears and candy canes. At that age, Jane and her brothers had begged to open _just one more_, but T.J. instantly starts asking to put them on. So thankful and happy for every single thing he gets. Jane can't help but be proud of him and Tommy for raising him to be this way.

Sam is obviously still too young to unwrap hers, so Maura helps—opening the present and pulling out a pair of footed, red pajamas covered with polar bears and Christmas trees.

They're adorable—and thankfully _not_ pink—but...

Jane suspiciously eyes the package. "Ma, why have they already been opened?"

"I bought my only granddaughter used pajamas," Angela deadpans before rolling her eyes. "I washed them in that special detergent for her so she wouldn't get a rash," she laughs and looks to Maura, "One time when Janie was a little girl, I put her in a brand new pair of pants and she got the worst rash all over her chubby little bu—"

"Ma!"

Nonplussed, and perhaps a little tipsy, Maura tilts her head and grins. "Jane, I've seen that part of your anatomy many times before—

"Maura!"

"—so I don't see why this is something we can't discuss."

Jane groans. She can't believe she forgot how loose lipped eggnog had always made her wife—about their sex lives and so much more. So no way is Maura allowed to have any more tonight. Maybe even never again. "It's embarrassing! And weird, Maura. I don't talk about," she flails her hand towards Maura, "your parts."

"I don't think it's weird," Maura says, completely serious but smiling at the same time.

Jane can't help but grin back when she sees Maura smiling that cute as hell smile with Sam doing the exact same thing in her lap. Definitely two of a kind—both of which have Jane wound so tightly around their fingers that Jane couldn't get loose even if she had wanted to. "Well _you're _weird, so I can see how it wouldn't bother you."

Maura laughs, whispering to Jane about how _this weird woman has a gift for you later so be careful what you say_ _to her_ before handing off Sam to an eager Frankie—who takes the job of being _the very best uncle _very seriously—to help Angela set the table.

They eat with only a few spilled drinks—Jane only knocked over one of those cups, for the record—and more than enough laughter and shenanigans to go around. To Jane it feels just like it used to as a child on Christmas Eve when they gathered for dinner, and to Maura it feels like… finally being _home_. Surrounded by loved and family and more feelings than she can possibly begin to count.

Before long, Sam is yawning and starting to whimper at wanting to leave the loud noise of everyone's voices so she can finally go to sleep. They start to leave—immensely grateful that Frankie has already started their car so it would be warm—and Jane puts her daughter in the car seat and covers it with a blanket to shield her from the wind, smacking away Maura's hands when she tries to pick her up.

"No, I've got her," Jane says as she picks up the seat and starts walking outside and down the stairs. It's slick and icy, and she's glad _she_ isn't the one wearing heels. "You know, most people stick with boots or something when there's snow on the ground, but no. Not you," Jane adds with a smile, laughing at the slight pout on Maura's face.

"There's nothing wro—" Maura slips on a hidden patch of ice on the sidewalk, barely catching herself by grabbing onto Jane's arm. Frowning, she rights herself. "Well. Perhaps they aren't the best for these conditions."

"Ya think?" Jane laughs, leaning over and kissing Maura's temple before she turns and puts Sam in the car.

The drive is slow; thickly falling snow landing on the windshield greatly impair Jane's vision. She hates it, her knuckles turning white as she focuses on the road and keeping quiet as if it will somehow ensure their safety. Maura's light humming in time with the radio and Sam's ever-quieting babbles are the only sounds to be heard until they finally pull up outside their house. Crookedly hung white lights—thanks to Jane and Frankie who insisted on doing it themselves—on the gutters and windowpanes and bushes greet them, making it feel more like home and Christmas than ever before.

Jane opts to unstrap Sam and wrap her in the blanket to carry her inside—loving the feel of her sleeping daughter resting on her shoulder and snuggling close into the crook of her neck as she walks through the brisk air. They get to the porch and Jane watches as Maura—snow flakes resting in her light curls and on the shoulders of her coat—tries to unlock the door with cold fingers. It take two tries before Jane laughs and takes the keys from Maura's hands. "I guess that eggnog really got to ya, didn't it?"

"I'm cold, not inebriated," Maura lightly pouts, following behind Jane closely as they step inside.

The warmth and scent of vanilla and cinnamon greet them, white lights from their half-lit, baby proof tree shining throughout the room. After pulling off coats and blankets and snow-covered shoes, they quietly walk upstairs in the hopes of not waking Sam. The get to the nursery—painted rose, much to Jane's chagrin—and Jane gently lays her in the white crib. And as usual, Maura leans down and gives her daughter kiss after kiss until it's _but just one more_ and Sam starts to slightly stir. She takes it as her cue to lean back, pulling the soft blanket up to her daughter's waist as she goes.

They look down at her—wild, messy hair even worse than usual, slightly puckered pink lips, and her tiny hands balled into little fists. She's perfect—a statement neither would willingly refute.

"She's sleeping with us next year," Jane states, leaving no room for argument.

"Why?"

"Me, Frankie, and Tommy would always pile in the bed with Ma on Christmas Eve—well, until we all stopped believing—and Pop would sleep on the couch so we wouldn't try to sneak downstairs," she shrugs, "So I mean…I don't know. It just feels like she should."

Maura smiles at the chance of getting a peek into Jane's childhood—memories she loves to hear about since hers could hardly compare—and rests her hand on Jane's that's on the edge of the crib. "A tradition of sorts?"

"Yeah. I guess it was, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Maura says, squeezing Jane's hand as she looks down and lightly rubs Sam's cheek, "And it's not one I'm opposed to keeping."

After triple-checking to make sure the baby monitor was turned on and giving an extra kiss just for good measure, they walk out and down the hall to their own room. Jane's always the quickest of the two—throwing on a pair of soft, thin pajama pants and a tanktop before crawling in the bed—while Maura takes her time picking out her attire from the closet and taking it with her into the bathroom, where she can wash her face and do at least four other things before finally deeming herself ready for bed.

Well, ready for tonight's plans, rather.

Jane turns at the sound of the bathroom door opening, eyebrows instantly shooting up at the sight of her wife. Maura's standing in the doorway with her long, blonde curls tumbling loosely around her shoulders, wearing a red lace bra—a shade that always complements her creamy, smooth skin so perfectly. The silky black thigh-high stockings are attached to the garter straps that are lightly pressing into the tops of her thighs, and her black heels give her at least another three inches—smooth calf muscles on display, her ass boosted and taut. There's no doubt this is meant to be a representation of Christmas-y, but it's still sexy and refined enough to fit Maura's tastes—not even remotely close to looking cheap or tawdry on her whatsoever.

Jane swallows thickly as she sits up, legs hanging off the edge of the bed to plant her feet against the hardwood floor. Coyly smiling, Maura slowly walks forward—hips swaying, thighs trembling, and shoes clicking with each step. Stopping less than a foot from her wife, Jane takes the opportunity to slowly roam her eyes up Maura's perfectly sculpted legs—legs that she loves to feel wrap around her waist, clenching and quivering and conveying the need for _more._

Her eyes travel further up and her cheeks instantly flush as she gets to the juncture between Maura's thighs. There are no underwear under the garter belt. Just the bare, smooth and wet flesh on display that clearly shows how ready and willing Maura already is. How much she's already anticipating everything Jane is going to give.

Continuing further, her eyes pause on Maura's full breasts—breasts that are pushed up by the lacy bra, her already hardened nipples straining against the thin fabric. Breasts she can't wait to touch and taste and _feel_. Ripping her gaze away, she meets Maura's face—noting the flush of her cheeks—and her heart sinks as her wife self-consciously looks to the floor. "Hey, don't do that. You look amazing."

Glancing back up, Maura tilts her head. "Do I? Really?"

The tremble of her voice makes Jane's chest clutch. She should've praised Maura's efforts more in the months that had passed since Sam was born. There wasn't a day that Maura hadn't run, gone to yoga, or some other strenuous activity at the crack of dawn just to get back into shape. Jane can't believe she hasn't reassured Maura; can't believe she hadn't picked up on the insecurities so that she could melt them away.

Reaching out, she places her hands on the soft lace slung low across Maura's hips. Jane runs her thumbs across the few stretch marks that still adorned Maura's sides, even after months of applying high-end creams and lotions. But it didn't matter. They were one of Jane's favorite parts of her wife. Always _would_ be one of her favorite parts. They were a physical reminder of their lives changing so drastically—a reminder of their greatest gift. Maura had brought their child into this world—made them both mothers and made them both immensely happier than they had ever thought possible.

Pulling Maura to stand between her legs, she looks up to meet anxious, vulnerable eyes. "You've always been beautiful, Maura. But honestly," her thumbs lightly trail across the small indentions months of carrying Sam had left behind, "You're more beautiful now than I think you've ever been."

"Really?" Now her voice is trembling for an entirely different reason.

"Really," Jane confirms. And she means it more than she's ever meant anything.

Resting one knee on the bed beside Jane's thigh, Maura cups her face and leans down to they're eye level. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Not today," Jane barely laughs, their mouths brushing with each word. "But you know I love you more."

"Love is an immeasurable quality, so no. I'm not sure that I _do_ know that," she teases.

Picking up on Maura's banter, Jane grins and pulls until Maura is straddling her lap completely. "I guess I'll just have to show you how much I love you then, won't I?"

"I would like that demonstration very much," she breathes as their lips finally press together.

It's familiar, compatible—years of being together and knowing exactly when to pause to savor the moment, when to nip and suck against each other's lip. But it's so much more than just that normality. It's burning desire building from within, flowing from Jane to Maura. Maura to Jane. It's love and happiness and hunger wanting to convey and claim and take and give.

It's _everything_.

Jane's fingers start to dig and knead against Maura's ass with each slow and steady rock her hips are starting to make, pulling them even closer together. It's only when the hem of her shirt is being pulled at, does she slowly release Maura' s lower lip and pull back as it gets tugged over her head to leave her bare from the waist up and she's surprised that Maura already is too.

The cool air instantly slips around her, leaving a trail of goosebumps trailing across her skin in its wake. She feels her nipples harden further, and then the soft warmth of delicately soft hands covering them—fingers rubbing, kneading, tugging against them. Maura leans down, kissing and licking and nipping against Jane's neck. Slowly, deliberately. Only pulling back to lightly kiss below Jane's ear and smile as she whispers, "I'm so ready for you," before continuing the focus ministrations of her lips against the soft skin of Jane's neck.

And by the way her hips have lowered and are nearly resting completely against Jane's pajama covered thigh and the way her hands are working harder against Jane's chest, Jane knows what she says is true. Almost instantaneously, she starts to maneuver them until Maura is finally on her back in the middle of the bed—hair splayed out around her in messy curls, eyes dark and heady, skin flush with her desire.

She's beautiful. So, so beautiful.

But Jane doesn't make a move to hover her above her, or crawl to lay at her side. Instead she kneels on her knees and begins pulling off Maura's shoes, dropping them haphazardly to the floor. Had Maura been less confused, she would probably be a little upset that Jane had just thrown her newest pair so carelessly. Her brow furrows as she watches Jane start to gently roll the black silk stockings down her thighs—one and then the other—before tossing them off the bed as well.

"What are you doing?"

Jane tugs at the garter belt until Maura lifts her hips and it, too, lands in a heap on the floor. "You don't need any of that to make me want you, Maura. You look just as good without," her eyes roam over pert breasts and slick flesh before landing again on hazel eyes as she corrects herself, "No, you look better like this. I like being able to see _you_."

And she does. She likes seeing the woman she married lain out on the bed—or couch or floor or wherever they wanted, really—completely bare and wanting. Just them. No extras to hide behind or use as tools to detach themselves from this. They had never needed the extras before, and she wasn't going to encourage Maura's insecurities by pretending like they needed them now. Jane just wants the skin to skin—hot and sweaty and raw passion and _perfect_—and Maura needs to know that's all she wants. And she's determined to show her just that, no matter how sappy it makes her seem.

Finally crawling up to hover above her, she leans down to kiss those velvet-soft pink lips. "I love this part of you—the way they spout those never-ending facts. The way they turn up when you smile. And I love your voice…especially when you're laughing or saying my name. How it goes all cute and baby-like when you're talking to Sam. "

Pretending to gasp, Maura lightly slaps Jane's arm as she smiles. "It does no such thing!"

"Oh, but it does," Jane laughs as she leans down to give one more feather light kiss, "and I love it."

Not needing to explain her love for the next stop, she moves downward and pulls one pert and dusky nipple into her mouth—tongue swirling and flicking as she lightly bites, her fingers kneading the flesh of the opposite breast. She does it over and over, conveying just how much she loves being here and doing this—conveying how much she loves Maura and showing Maura how beautiful she really is—until Maura gasps, her fingers wrapping in Jane's hair to push her away.

Jane smirks to herself. That had always gotten Maura worked up like that—wound her tightly—and she's glad it hasn't changed. Her lips brush against the faint indentions at Maura's hips and she pulls back to make sure Maura's _really_ listening to what she has to say.

"And these," her fingers run across them, her head shaking when Maura starts to blush, "These remind me of everything you've given me, Maura. A family. Happiness. Wholeness. Everything I never knew I wanted, you've given to me. And I…Don't be ashamed of these. I love you and what these stand for. So don't—I mean," she shakes her head, nearly embarrassed of how emotional she's getting over this, "I just really love you. All of you. Don't ever feel like I don't think you're amazing, because you are. And I have never stopped thinking that. Not even for a minute."

"Oh, Jane…" Maura breathes as she reaches down and tugs Jane up so their bodies are flushed—mouths pressing together to express the need they have for one another. Not just a purely physical need, but a _without you I feel empty_ need. A _you make me feel more loved and complete and worthy than I've ever felt before _kind of need.

This is devouring and hungry and frantic and an all-consuming manifestation of how they feel. Jane instantly flushes, their bare chests sticking together with every movement they make—Maura's legs opening wide so Jane can settle down between them. Ready. Waiting. Wanting. _Craving._

Jane rolls her hips once, twice before Maura's nails are digging into her back in an attempt to get more. She dips her hand between them and runs her fingers through Maura's wetness, up and down—quickly and slowly, until Maura's hips jerk up as she tries to find the right rhythm, tries to get Jane's fingers exactly where she needs them.

But Jane _knows_ what Maura wants, how she likes it. Even without all the foretelling secrets Maura's body is giving away, she'd still know. So now, she makes sure to _do_. Sliding her fingers even further down, she slowly pushes two of them inside her wife—relishing the slight clench of wet heat around them, the jerk of hips, the way her name so perfectly falls from Maura's lips.

"Jane…" she pants, gasping as Jane quickens the pace, pushing in and out with enough force for Maura's breasts to undulate, the headboard lightly smack the wall. "Good. So good…faster. Please faster."

Jane thrusts in faster, harder, _better_—muscles burning and teeth gritting. She knows this will be over quickly—more quickly than she'd like—but they have all night for slow and loving. Her confessions of her love _for_ Maura and all that _is_ Maura had driven her wife up so high and coiled her so tightly, that there really isn't anywhere else from here except tumbling over that perfect edge.

Jane pumps her fingers faster and faster now, watching as Maura's eyes slip close and her breathing starts to get labored—breasts rocking, incoherent gasps pouring from her mouth with each drive inside her.

Grunting softly as she continues to stroke in and out, she increases the power behind each thrust, adjusting ever so slightly so that her thumb can roll and flick and rub against Maura's clit as she plunges inside, harder and higher and faster and just the way Maura likes it when she's this close—how she needs it.

And Maura feels it building and burning and coiling inside her, tingling and overwhelming her. Threatening to consume her. One more flick against her clit and it does. She suddenly cries out—back arching up and into Jane, fingers digging into any bit of Jane's skin she can reach, all her muscles tensing as she finally comes undone. Hard contractions pull and wrap around Jane's fingers, causing her to slow only slightly—refusing to stop until Maura is completely spent.

Maura trembles and quakes as she finally lowers back down to the bed, aftershocks coursing through her. Laying limp and sluggish as Jane works her down, lets her wring every single ounce of pleasure she can from this. Her body clenches, surging forward when Jane finally removes her hand and unexpectedly brushes against her clit again—another small wave of bliss quickly jolting through her.

Jane leans down, leaving feather-light kisses to Maura's soft lips and neck until her eyes finally open. She smiles and whispers an, "I love you," before beginning to reach up and between Jane leg—effectively confused when Jane stops her.

Smiling, Jane gives her one last kiss before standing by the bed. "C'mon, it's still early. I have something I want to show you."

…

**And there will be a super-fluffy chapter 2. Stay tuned!**

**Also, my other fics will be updated regularly again after next week—finals haven't really allowed me to write very often!**

**Reviews appreciated, _very_ much if you have the time (:  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hope you enjoy! **

…

"Me and Frankie used to write our letters to Santa as we watched this," Jane says as her fingers nimbly pull the DVD from the case. "You ever seen it?"

Maura looks up from lighting the fireplace, the glow illuminating her hair in the almost darkened room—the only other source of lights being the ones on the Christmas tree. She smiles as she imagines a younger, pudgier Jane sitting on the couch trying to write as neatly as she can with the paper lying on her lap.

"The Grinch? No. I can't say that I have," she says, standing and walking to the couch. "What was Tommy doing?"

"What?"

"You said that only Frankie wrote the letters with you. What was Tommy doing?"

Propping up against one arm of the couch, Jane opens her arms so Maura can lie against her chest. "Tommy never waited until last minute like we did. I swear he sent a letter every day for a month one year," Jane says, wrapping her arms around Maura's back as she laughs. "He thought if he wrote more, he would get more. Never worked out for him though."

Snuggling closer into Jane, Maura watches the animated opening credits begin for the movie as she thinks about her own childhood Christmases. There were always gifts under the tree—wrapped professionally and not by her mother's hand, just as the tree was decorated—but no one was ever there to watch her open them but the household staff. The only time she really saw her parents over the holidays was at the dinner that was always held at their estate on Christmas Eve.

Back then, that had all felt so very normal.

But now that she has Jane and has been surrounded by her family, she realizes exactly what she had been missing.

She shivers and Jane drapes a blanket across them both. "Why is he green?"

Of course Maura would need to know that. Smiling, Jane rolls her eyes. "Just watch the movie."

"Perhaps it stands for being green with envy," she says as she tilts her head to look up at Jane. "Do you think that's what it is?"

"I thought you didn't guess," Jane teases, eyebrow raised.

Maura lightly gasps. "I don't! That was merely a hypothesis."

"Mhm," Jane laughs, leaning down to kiss Maura's forehead. "Of course it was."

Playfully rolling her eyes, she rests her head back on Jane's chest and listens to the strong, steady heartbeat under her ear. "Did you ever get coal?"

"What?" Jane asks, clearly confused by the quick change of topic. "Of course not."

"That's not what your mother said," the amusement clearly evident in Maura's voice.

Jane groans, not believing that her mother would actually bring that up. Seven was definitely not an easy age for her. "It was a coal-shaped piece of chewing gum! Totally different."

"Mhm," she hums, trying not to grin as she pictures a young, shocked Jane pulling the blackened lump from her stocking.

Jane lightly pinches her side. "If you don't behave, that's all _you're_ getting this year."

Maura's head instantly pops up, eyebrows knitting. "You got me something?"

"Maybe," Jane responds, bashfully shrugging her shoulders.

"Jane," Maura gasps. "We promised that we weren't getting each other anything."

Jane raises an eyebrow. "So you didn't get me anything either?"

"I didn't say that."

Jane laughs, pulling on Maura until they're face to face. "That's what I thought."

Leaning in, Jane presses their lips together—relishing the feel of Maura's mouth on her own, the feel of Maura's weight pressing down against her. They fit together like two halves of a whole, so seamlessly and effortlessly and…_perfectly_.

Jane's hands reach up and tangle in Maura' hair, drawing her closer to savor all that's just so simply _Maura _before pressing one last kiss against those soft lips and pulling back to grin as she looks in darkened hazel eyes. "Now watch the movie."

"Fine," Maura sighs, slightly scrunching her nose at not going any further. "But I really didn't get you anything."

"Yes you did," Jane says, running her hands under Maura's shirt and up the warm, soft skin of her sides. Maura tilts her head in confusion. She would certainly remember if she had bought Jane anything. "You gave us Sam. And I'm—that's enough for me, Maura."

Jane lightly blushes at her sentiment, and Maura tears up. It never fails to astound her how incredibly fortunate she is to have Jane and Sam and all the Rizzolis in her life. She kisses Jane soundly—a recognition of the earlier sentiment without making a huge deal out of it—before pulling back and lying against Jane's chest once again, her arms wrapping tightly around her wife in an attempt to get as close as possible.

They lie like that—enjoying just being with and surrounded by each other—as the animated movie plays. It's only towards the end of the movie that Maura finally pipes up. "The Grinch really should've seen a doctor if his heart was growing that—"

"Maura," Jane laughs. "It's a metaphorical."

"Oh." She watches the rest of the scene and then looks up at Jane, small smile on her lips. "It's safe to say that my heart metaphorically grew when I met you then, Jane Rizzoli."

Jane's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"I was deemed cold. Emotionless. Then you came into my life," she swallows harshly, her hand reaching up to cup Jane's cheek, "and changed everything. I never imagined becoming who I am today—a mother. A best friend. A wife. But I am. And it's all because of you."

Having no idea how to respond, Jane grins and gently runs her fingers through the hair at Maura's temples. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Maura smile, running her finger down Jane's jawline.

The ending credits sound and Jane glances to the TV before glancing back to the hazel eyes fixed upon her. "Did you like it?"

"Yes," she says, because she _did _like it—but mostly because of just being able to spend the time with Jane. "But not as much as last year's."

"A Christmas Story?"

Maura nods, now remembering the name. "Although the 24 hour marathon may have been a tad over the top, I enjoyed that one very much."

"Good. Because we'll be watching the marathon at Ma's all day tomorrow again."

Maura happily claps her hands twice before standing, and Jane kicks off the blanket and quickly gets to her feet. She tugs on Jane's hand and starts to walk towards the bedroom, but Jane gently pulls back.

"You go ahead. I have something to do first."

Tilting her head, Maura's brow knits. "Like what? It's late."

"You'll see." Jane leans over and kisses her lips. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

Okay," Maura answers warily. "Promise you'll be careful?"

"Promise."

….

**Reviews make perfect Christmas gifts...(;  
**

**But seriously, thank you for reading! And the next chapter should be out soon.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews, I love reading them!**

**I had hoped to have this done by Christmas, but…didn't seem to happen. Sorry :/**

* * *

Watching the fat snowflakes melt on the windshield, she clutches the phone to her ear as it rings and rings until she hears the sleep-induced rasp of her brother's voice on the line. She urges him to come down quickly and steps out of the car and into the cold winter air as she waits for him.

He finally flings open the door—one flannel pajama leg tucked into his boot, and she's pretty sure he's wearing Lydia's jacket—grumbling as he trudges across the thick snow to stand next to her. "It's after midnight, Jane! You're lucky you didn't wake up T.J."

She barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. She knows for a fact that his phone was on vibrate on the nightstand and couldn't have possibly bothered T.J. in the next room. And she also knows there was no way he would've let her come over if he knew _why_ she was coming over, so that's why she had to come over before she called to begin with.

Rizzoli pride was always one of their best and worst traits.

The wind picks up and blows her hair in wild tuffs around her face and she struggles to push it back with her cold hands. "Did you get T.J. something?"

"A few odds and ends, yeah," he mumbles, face turning red from more than just the cold as he gives an embarrassed shrug. "The stores were already closed by the time I got done tonight."

She takes a second to look at him,_ really_ look at him. The past few years had been hard on him with the baby and lack of work and his hair is flecked with gray and there are noticeable wrinkles near his eyes. Her heart clenches, and she reaches out to affectionately squeeze his shoulder. "You're doing the best you can, alright? Me and Frankie will make a few calls again, see if we can find you some more work—"

"I got a job."

She completely freezes in disbelief, eyebrows shooting up. "You what?"

"I got a job," he repeats. A small, crooked grin forms on his face. "It doesn't start until next week, but yeah. I found a real, good paying job."

She breaks out in a shocked smile and claps him on the shoulder—so happy for him. "That's great, Tommy! Shit, Ma is go—"

"Don't tell her yet," he interrupts, still smiling. "I want to tell everyone tomorrow at dinner, y'know?"

And she_ does_ know.

She knows that now he has something to be proud of and deserves the chance to get praised for it—a bright light that's finally entered his life to make things better for him and his family.

There's no way that she's going to take that from him.

"I'm proud of ya, Tommy," she pulls him in for the quickest hug before stepping back, feet crunching in the snow as she finally remembers why she came over.

"I don't," she starts, trying to figure out how to word this. "Promise you won't take this the wrong way?"

He warily nods and follows her as she walks to the trunk of the car. "T.J asked us for one of these last month," she says as she raises the trunk, "And you know Maura. There's no way she was going to say no to him…"

His eyes roam over the huge box—taking in the illustration of the kid-sized, electric ride-on car. It was blue with yellow flames down the sides, and the picture has a smiling boy driving it across the yard. He looks up to his apartment and sighs. They didn't have a yard of their own, and this would barely fit in T.J's bedroom. Not to mention how much this had surely cost.

He shakes his head as he looks up to her. "That's really nice of you guys, but I can't—"

"We can keep it at our house for when he comes over," she interrupts, already remembering the conversation she had with Maura when they bought it. "And you know he'll like it."

"Yeah, but it's too much, Jane. You know we can't afford to get Sam something like that."

"She's a baby," she says, already starting to maneuver it from the trunk. "It's not like she'll remember what you get her anyway."

Jane can still see the skepticism on his face and sighs. "Me and Maura will never bring it up to anyone if you take it. This isn't something I'm doing to hold over your head, alright? So just get over your stubborn pride and do it for T.J. We all just want him to be happy."

"I don't know, Jane…"

In one fell swoop, she lifts the box and shoves it against his chest. She laughs as he grips it in shock to keep it from falling. "I've got your back, little brother; it's what I'm here for. Take it."

He looks from Jane to the box, and back to Jane as he shifts it in his arms. He nods once and she swears she can see his eyes start to mist over. "Thanks, Jane. I owe you one."

She smiles, knowing it's as close to a _you're the best sister ever and I love you _that she's going to get.

"And Merry Christmas," he adds as he turns and starts to walk inside.

* * *

The drive home was agonizingly slow—her car had slid on the ice twice before she had managed to finally pull into their driveway. She leaves her snow crusted shoes and pants—that had apparently dragged the ground and gotten soaked without her noticing until the wet fabric clung to her ankles—in the laundry room with her coat before maneuvering her way through the darkened house to their bedroom.

She climbs in under the warm, downy sheets facing Maura and she takes a moment to simply look at her wife. Maura looks so serene lying there—her eyes closed, hair splayed around her on the pillow, blankets tucked firmly under her chin in an attempt to hold something since Jane wasn't there to do so.

A lone, stray strand of hair has fallen forward and landed on Maura's parted lips, so Jane reaches out to gently push it back—her fingers grazing the soft skin of her wife's face.

Maura's eyes slowly blink open as she gets used to the dim room and she gives a slow, sleepy smile as she looks to Jane. "I tried to stay awake until you came back."

"It's okay," Jane scoots closer until their bodies are flush. "It wasn't too bad out there anyway."

"Mmm," Maura mumbles, taking a moment to bury her face in Jane's neck—loving the simplicity and closeness of what they have, before pulling back. "Did he accept it?"

"Did who accept what?" Jane asks warily.

"Did Tommy accept T.J's gift?"

"How did you even know that's what I was doing?" She can't even keep the incredulity out of her voice.

"Jane, it's probable that the entire neighborhood heard you trying to load it into the car on your own."

"Smartass," Jane laughs, the sound mingling with Maura's own. "I was actually just going to wait and let you figure it out tomorrow."

Maura's brow furrows. "Why?"

Jane takes a deep breath, blowing it out in a sigh. "I didn't want to make it seem like I was doing it for praise or anything. I just wanted to make sure T.J had something nice to wake up to, y'know? He deserves it just as much as Sam does."

Grinning, Maura reaches out and pokes Jane's chest. "You are such a softie sometimes."

"No I'm not," Jane groans. "I'm a badass, Maura. Badasses aren't softies."

"Well you somehow manage to be both and I love that about you," Maura says, leaning in close until their lips are barely brushing. "I love everything about you."

Reaching up, Maura curls her fingers in the back of unruly black hair. Pulls Jane close, leaning in and pressing their lips together in a way that expresses everything that she feels for Jane—everything she's felt since the moment they met, everything she wants to feel for the rest of her life.

Maura starts to shift, never breaking away from the kiss as she hooks one leg over Jane's to straddle her—pressing down flush against her wife, wanting to feel all of her at once. Jane's tongue slowly flits inside her mouth, consuming her. Slowly. Gently. Overwhelming in the best of ways.

Slowly, she pulls back and runs the tips of her fingers down Jane's temples, her cheeks, her jaw. "You never cease to amaze me, Jane. You are so good. To Sam and T.J. To me. To people you've never even met before. You've been through some of the most horrible things and yet, you are still so good. So kind. So giving."

Jane starts to lightly blush, but doesn't dare look away.

"I wasn't always." Jane's hands move under Maura's shirt and slowly up the curve of her waist to lightly rest against her ribcage as she stares up to hazel eyes. "You made me better."

"And I can say the same to you," Maura whispers, honestly.

Because Jane _has_ made her better in more ways than she can possibly count. And for that, she is undeniably, whole-heartedly grateful to be able to call Jane her wife. There is not one thing she would change about her life at this very moment even if she could.

Not Jane's grumpiness in the mornings before her first cup of coffee. Not Sam's wild hair and love for wearing nothing but pajamas all the time, even though all she wants to do is dress her daughter up. Not Angela's nosiness at the most inopportune moments. She would change absolutely none of it because to her…it is absolutely perfect.

Her warm hands dance across the thin strip of skin showing between the bottom hem of Jane's shirt and the top of her underwear, before Jane finally tilts up her hips in a silent plea. Her fingers nimbly pull them off—leaving Jane in only a white shirt—and drop them on the other side of the bed.

She looks back at Jane—back at Jane's bent and slightly spread legs, at the arousal that only she can illicit, even after being together for so many years. She runs her hands up Jane's shins to rest on her knees and looks up with a soft, completely contented smile. "Merry Christmas."

Jane doesn't even have to look over at the ridiculously expensive alarm clock Maura had bought on a whim to know what time it is, remembering that she had gotten back from Tommy's well after midnight. She reaches up and rests her hand on Maura's own, loving the feel of her wife's wedding ring digging into her palm—reminding her of just how lucky she is, just like it does every single time she sees it on Maura's finger.

Smiling, she squeezes Maura's hand once. "Merry Christmas, babe."

Maura grins, and then her hands roam down Jane's thighs—slightly stroking as she moves down to settle into place. She kisses the insides of Jane's thighs once, twice; completely loving how she knows exactly what Jane likes, loving the fact that this is so comfortable and natural and yet, always so new and perfect between them.

One of her hands reaches up and tangles with Jane's, the other wrapping around a lean, strong thigh to hold Jane in place as she finally leans in—slowly running her tongue through the entirety of Jane. Feeling the jerk of Jane's hips, hearing the sighs and gasps tumbling from her wife's lips—loving them, letting them spur her on.

She licks up, focusing her tongue solely on Jane's clit—circling it, tapping against it, flicking across it. Jane's free hand grasps the headboard as the other clenches Maura's hand harder, like she wants Maura to stop. Like she wants every single thing Maura has to give.

After so many years together, Maura knows the signs, knows what Jane's body is telling her. What Jane needs. She lightly starts to suck against Jane's clit, slowly increasing the pressure until Jane's hips lurch up, begging for _more, more, more_.

So Maura gives more, gives everything her wife needs. Licks and flicks and sucks, grazing her teeth across the taut and straining bundle of nerves, earning a surprised gasp from Jane. She does it over and over, feeling the warning shake of Jane's thighs as she gets closer and closer, driven higher and higher.

Jane starts to pant, getting ready to be ripped open at the seams. She forces her eyes open, looking down at Maura between her legs, giving all that she has to Jane and Jane alone.

And it's that image that does her in.

Groaning and teeth clenching, her fingers dig into Maura's hair as she comes—holding her close as she starts to spasm, her stomach clenching, hips lurching up from the bed as her orgasm radiates through her. Maura continues her ministrations, lets Jane get every ounce of pleasure that she can before finally pull back from Jane jerking at too much, too soon.

Climbing up, she kisses her wife softly before resting against Jane's chest—loving when Jane's arms automatically wrap around her back to hold them flush together. She lies there and listens to Jane's slowly-calming heart rate, slowly-calming breathing as she comes down from her high.

Jane finally opens her eyes and starts to flip them, but Maura stops her with a kiss. "You need sleep," Maura says, rolling to the side to curl into Jane, pulling the blankets around them. "You have to get up early and play Santa, remember?"

There's a teasing lilt in Maura's voice and Jane nearly groans.

Nearly.

But there's nothing she'd rather do on Christmas than wake up early to set out presents for her daughter anyway.

…

….

**So I can just end it here since it's already after Christmas, or add one more chapter where they open gifts together. It's really up to you!**

**Thanks for reading, as always. (: **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is the end for this fic, I hope you enjoyed it! **

…

Jane falls flat on her back against the floor. Who knew toys for babies had so many pieces? After two hours of putting together things she can barely pronounce—a Ballapalooza? Ball-cano?—and several other toys that Maura had warned her to not wait until last minute to assemble, she's frustrated and exhausted beyond belief from only getting a few hours of sleep.

She slings her forearm across her forehead and looks up at the lights shining on the tree. Her eye catches the lone ornament that doesn't match the rest and she smiles. It's gold and red, nearly twice the size of the rest, but Maura was the one that insisted on hanging it right in the front of the tree—much to Jane's surprise—because it was an ornament dedicated to Sam's first Christmas.

A dedication to their first Christmas together as parents.

Remembering the look in Maura's eyes after they had placed it on the tree, she'd be surprised if it didn't manage to make its way to the front and center every year from now on even as mismatched as it is.

There's a small whimpering emitted from the baby monitor, then another, before a full-blown wail. Just like Jane, Sam never had been one to enjoy the mornings. Jane moves to go get her, but stops when she hears the light footfalls of Maura walking towards the nursery. The crying stops almost immediately—a knack that Maura had since day one—and Jane hurries to straighten up the gifts around the tree.

Making a mad dash towards the study, she slides in her socks as she comes to a stop to find the video recorder. Turning around and around in circles—she's sure she plugged it in last night—she finally spots it sitting on one of the bookshelves in the corner.

Fumbling with the buttons as she makes her way to the foot of the stairs, she brushes some of her hair from her face as she hears them start to walk down the hall. "Is she ready?"

There's a high pitched squeal in response from Sam as she hears Jane's voice, followed by her wife's light laugh.

"Yes, I would say she is," Maura replies, finally appearing at the top of the stairs in a pair of Jane's old flannel pajama pants covered in candy canes.

Jane laughs. "What are you wearing?"

"They are surprisingly comfortable. I had always thought you just had horrible fash—"

"—What is _she_ wearing?" Jane interrupts, finally looking away from the tiny camera screen and really looking at her daughter.

"Isn't it obvious? She's a reindeer," Maura replies, walking down the stairs with a beaming smile. "I thought you would like it."

Jane's mouth falls slightly open at the sight. Their slightly pudgy daughter—completely normal according to Maura, and Angela who keeps giving Sam cookies when no one is looking—is shoved into a brown and furry, jumpsuit with booties that look like hooves. Not to mention the hood with antlers attached, bouncing with each move Sam or Maura makes.

Jane wants to complain about it, she really _really_ does. But Sam is looking out from under the hood with her bright blue eyes and a smile to match, and Jane can't do anything but try not to laugh.

"Let it be known," Jane says, still holding the camera and reaching out to lightly tickle her daughter's stomach, "that this was your mommy's doing."

"At least it isn't a pink bunny suit," Maura replies, smiling as she remembers the movie marathon of A Christmas Story they were to watch later today.

Maura has her there. Getting one of those damned outfits for Christmas had been one of her biggest fears as a child—simply because she hated pink, _not_ because of the beady eyes or anything—and there would've been no way she would've let her daughter wear one of _those_.

They turn towards the living room and it only takes a second for Sam to notice all of the things under the tree. With wide eyes, she quickly turns to look at Jane, then Maura, then back to the tree. Her chubby legs start kicking against Maura and her arms start flailing towards the tree as she makes little grunts, trying to get closer to all the brightly colored toys that are set out.

After setting the camera on the coffee table so it could still record, they all sit on the floor—Maura holding Sam up so she can stand, Jane playing with the little toys just as much as her daughter is. Excitedly, their daughter tries to grab one thing and quickly the next—except the jack-in-the-box, it nearly brought Sam to tears and had to be hidden from sight—babbling, and waving her arms, and smiling at everything that is set in front of her.

Jane marvels at how, in that moment—her daughter in a reindeer suit and Maura with disheveled from sleep—much they look alike. Both with wide smiles (albeit Sam's is nearly toothless) and messy hair and bright eyes, looking right back at her. It's perfect. _They're_ perfect. She couldn't think of anywhere else she'd rather be.

Leaning across the little music table between them, she kisses Maura's forehead. "I love you," she pulls off Sam's reindeer hood to ruffle her wild hair, "And I love you."

Maura smiles up at her, that _just for you, Jane_ smile before looking down and pinching their daughter's cheeks. "And we love you too, don't we, Samantha?"

Sam looks back and forth between them both with a one-toothed grin before going back to smacking at the table in an attempt to get it to play more music. Loud music. Music Jane knew she was going to hate forever, and hear constantly over the next few months. But as long as Sam was happy, she was happy….but maybe Sam would be happier with a quieter toy.

As if Maura can read her mind, she holds out one of the wrapped gifts in an attempt to distract Sam, but their daughter merely looks at it before crawling away to play with one of the various other toys from 'Santa' that are now scattered around the room.

"Well," Jane starts, pushing through the larger gifts under the tree to find the very small, very horribly wrapped one in the back, "If she isn't going to open hers, go ahead and open yours."

Maura's eyes start to glisten, and she takes the small box in her hands. "Jane, you really shouldn't have gotten me anything."

"But I wanted to," Jane shrugs, giving a sideways grin.

Maura turns the little box in her hands, looking at the lopsided wrapping and extra tape covering every single seam of the paper. Most people would say it was horribly done and nearly tacky, but not her. No, she was used to getting professionally, impersonally wrapped gifts as a child.

This…this tiny box that just screams _Jane, _is her idea of perfect. Knowing that Jane took the time to wrap it, thinking of her as she placed ever piece of tape is enough to make her heart clench, just like it had every single year when Jane had handed her the home-wrapped gifts.

Looking up, and trying not to cry like every year before this, she clenches the gift in her hand and smiles. "Thank you."

"You're supposed to open it before you thank me," she laughs, "Just in case you end up hating it."

"Right," Maura nods, her fingers nimbly trying to open it without tearing the paper.

"You're not going to hurt it, Maura," she encourages, sitting Sam on her lap when she crawls back over. "Just rip it open."

"Okay, okay."

Paper ripped away and dropped to the side, Maura clicks open the little velvet box and gasps. In it lies a silver band with an aquamarine stone set in the middle—Samantha's birthstone. Pulling it from the box, the light catches the inscription on the inside, the date of their daughter's birth.

"Oh, Jane…" she breaths, slipping it on her finger. "It's perfect."

"I remember Ma almost died when she finally got hers," Jane shrugs, trying not to cringe as small, baby hands pull her curls, "So I thought you'd like one, too."

"I love it," she replies, trying to keep her voice from breaking. It may not match everything, but there is no way she's ever going to willingly take this ring off. "So much."

"Really?"

There's a hint of apprehension in Jane' voice, barely there but enough for Maura to catch on to it. Jane had always been self-confident and certain of herself, but when it came to being like this—feeling vulnerable—she had always needed just a little bit of reassurance.

Maura smiles, gives a small wink. "Almost as much as I love you, Jane Rizzoli."

"Oh, really?" Jane asks with a wag of her eyebrows, all vulnerability cast aside at the sound of Maura's teasing tone.

"Almost," she says, pulling the wrapping paper out of Samantha's mouth and handing her one of the small teething rings she had gotten in her stocking, "But I can name two _very_ important people that I love more."

"Well, Sam," Jane starts, looking down as her daughter looks up at her with those big, blue eyes, "I hope she's talking about us. We may have to go hunt some people down if she isn't."

Rolling her eyes, Maura laughs at the animated tone Jane always uses when talking to their daughter. Even though she had seen Jane interact with children on cases in the past, she had never in her wildest dreams imagined Jane would ever use babytalk. It was endearing and cute and…now she can see why Jane liked it when she, herself, talked to Samantha like that.

"Well you may rest assured, Jane," she says, small grin in place before leaning over and pressing their lips together—barely keeping it on the brink of chaste and more-so, before pulling back. "No one could_ ever_ take either of your places in my life. Ever."

And Jane knows it to be true.

Because she feels the exact same way towards the woman looking back at her with still-watery eyes, and the smiling baby crawling around on their laps.

….

**Thanks for the reviews/alerts! I hope you all enjoyed. (: **


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